


You're Pretty

by QueenoftheHobbits



Series: Soft Thighs Series [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cute, F/M, Mild Angst, but mostly fluff with a little bit of suggestive thoughts going on, overweight reader, part of a series i'm doing on tumbrl, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:25:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheHobbits/pseuds/QueenoftheHobbits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is new to the Tower, and you find his staring a bit worrying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of overweight/plus size Bucky reader inserts i'm doing on my blog imaginesofeveryfandom and I felt like sharing them here as well because plus size girls like myself need a little more love ;)

You’d been the only one of the Avengers to never meet The Winter Soldier now once again known as Bucky Barnes, while everyone else was fighting and arguing and disagreeing you’d hidden yourself away to do your job without all the hassle. You hadn’t wanted to choose between friends. It meant you never met Bucky, you heard things of course, saw pictures from the old days of a bright eyed man with combed hair and a neat uniform, a cheeky smile on his face. But you’d never met him, never seen him, never talked to him...and now Steve was bringing him into your home to become one you guys.  


You were nervous, you often got those looks when new people met you, the ones that said you were too large to be part of the Avengers, that you couldn’t possibly have soft thighs, and large arms and still kick ass and it took them seeing physical proof to realise that weight wasn’t a restricter on fitness, to realise that actually you were pretty damn good at your job and your weight wasn’t anything to do with it. But you didn’t want this new guy to look at you like that, Steve cared about him, even Tony was slowly coming round and felt sympathetic towards him despite the large barriers...and you just wanted to be treated like normal for once during an introduction. Because you were normal and you were fed up with the negative stares. The judgements. You’d been dealing with them for your whole life.  


You always assumed that Steve would bring Bucky to the tower later in the day, some time in the afternoon when you were fully awake...and properly dressed, but as you walked into the living area you shared with the others you found yourself stopping in your tracks and regretting not getting ready first.  


James Buchanan Barnes was stood besides Steve, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes darting around the room at everyone, and you were there with your hair an absolute mess, short pajama bottoms and a tight top covered in unicorns, and most likely yesterdays make-up around your eyes. Your every curve and lump and bump was on display in front of a stranger and you really wanted to back out of the room and hide yourself away until you were presentable or presentable in your eyes at least.  


But the moment you tried to leave the room quietly in order to get dressed, blue eyes snapped to you and you froze. There was an intensity to the stare that you weren’t used to, he looked at you as if you were the only person in the room and it made you somewhat uncomfortable. You could imagine what he was thinking, _how could you possibly be an avenger at that weight? Look at those thighs? That stomach?_  


But that’s not what he was thinking or seeing, in fact Buck wasn’t entirely sure if he could think anything in that moment, it was like the breath had been completely knocked out of him. You were adorable...and hot, you had shorts that showed powerful soft thighs that he’d love to wrap around his waist, and a stomach that looked like it’d be excellent to kiss, and cheeks that turned a deep colour, round and full...and he was unable to tear his eyes away.  


With an inability to leave you supposed you had to introduce yourself and watched Steve beckon you over, your feet padding against the floor and you wrapped your arms around yourself. Standing a few feet in front of him you realised just how tall he was, Bucky was a tall man...he made you feel tiny which wasn’t something you were used to. The stare never faltered. And you avoided those intense eyes at all costs, shifting your gaze around, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.  


“Y/N, this is Bucky...Bucky, this is Y/N” He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t even blink he wondered if this was what Steve felt looking at Peggy...probably, so all he did was nod and swallow harshly when you gave him a sweet little smile. Unexplainable feelings that had been buried somewhere in his fragmented mind coming to the surface. Some part of him recognised that he’d once had this feeling frequently, beautiful women, dancing, dresses, and braziers, and perfectly curled hair.  


The introduction was brief and the awkward smile you sent him was almost painful from your point of view, you were rather quick to scurry out of the room. Because not only was that stare unnerving, but he was far too attractive for his own good and you had a feeling you’d embarrass yourself further if you didn’t leave. Because even with the intimidating, intense stare he was hot, he was tall, he was well muscled, with a sharp jaw and the bluest eyes you’d ever seen, even on Steve. And you knew you couldn’t go there because why would a super soldier like that want you? He’d probably be drooling over Nat or someone else by the end of the day...  


You had a shower, letting the water run over you and talking yourself through each of your thoughts and the way Bucky’s jaw clenched and his metal armed looked pretty hot...I mean you’d never thought about it before, but god that arm was pretty hot...and incredibly well sculpted. Suffice to say your shower was less relaxing and calming than you wanted it to be, you were conflicted, his stare made you uncomfortable and yet you found yourself wanting him. His judgement made you want to scream, yet you wanted him to make you scream in a different way altogether...and it was just so wrong...or right...or something.  


You left the shower, a fluffy towel wrapped around your body, your feet padding across the floor when you noticed a piece of paper slipped underneath your door. It was a simple piece of printer paper folded in half. You reached down to grab it, sitting on the edge of your bed before opening the folded piece of paper, before blushing at the cursive neat writing that scrawled across the page in a few simple words that had your heart beating in your chest and surprise flickering across your face.  


_‘You’re pretty-Bucky’_  


You thought maybe that stare was only uncomfortable because of how you interpreted it, and maybe it was more school boyish awe than judgemental middle age women. You weren’t ashamed to say you giggled, blushed and hid your face in your hands, a brilliant smile taking over your face. You weren’t ashamed because you were happy and who knew one message, one small set of words from an ex-assassin struggling with his own memories and his own past could do that.  


Outside your door Bucky was leant against the hallway wall, a biro in his hands, and a small, genuine smile on his face for the first time in a while because he could hear that giggle and he could almost see the smile and he’d done something good. He’d made someone happy...he’d made a girl, a pretty, adorable, soft bellied, amazing thighed girl happy. With just a few words. He did something good, something he wanted to do, something that he would have done before, before he was _this_ , and maybe this was really his shot at redemption, to rebuild, to fix himself. Maybe Steve was right, staying here was a good idea.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky has a trend of leaving you notes...they make you feel better.

Bucky never talks to you, but what he doesn’t say to you he makes up for with little notes slipped under your door. He’s trying to get better and making you smile seems to be part of that, in fact he knows it’s part of that. For him it was a shot at redemption, at making someone happy, at helping someone rather than breaking them. He could see it, the insecurity you held around other people, the way you worked ten times harder to prove yourself, the way you hid behind loose fitting clothes. You were insecure about your weight and he could see it almost as clear as day...and it hurt to see. Because you didn’t need to be and you didn’t deserve to be, you deserved to be happy and comfortable. 

So he did what he could, while he still couldn’t bring himself to talk around you or to you, his voice getting caught in his throat every time, he could write you notes. Since the first one he knew they made you happy...and that’s all he wanted, he wasn’t sure if they’d do anything in the long term and he never asked. But he liked to think they did, he liked to think you were happier and more confident in the long term. He liked to think he was doing something good. It wasn’t just about doing good though, it was also a way for him to express how he felt.

You were getting better in the long run though, not that he was aware. Waking up every morning to a new note underneath your door, cursive writing that said some form of praise. _‘You have beautiful eyes’, ‘you have lovely cheeks’, ‘your hips are amazing’, ‘you’re really nice’_...anything from the most simple thing to the most complex and every time they made you feel differently about yourself. You’d look at the words and you’d agree with them and you’d keep them. Every. Single. One.

There was a box underneath your bed filled to the brim with the little pieces of paper, all with the same handwriting, and on the back of each the date you received it. When you were having bad days you’d bring the box out from underneath your bed and sit there reading through all the comments, every little note and piece of praise. Every time you were reminded that you were beautiful, that your stomach was adorable, that Bucky Barnes had so many thoughts about you and they were all so innocently sweet. The types of thoughts that were simply being said not just because he meant them, but because he knew they’d make you happy. Overtime you fell in love with those little thoughts, it was no longer just him that struggled to talk in the other’s presence. You found yourself blushing under his stare, and wanting to speak with him but being unable to...and you found yourself falling in love with your body as well. A new sort of confidence you’d never felt before being bolstered over time by those little notes.

And Bucky noticed...and he felt like he was doing the best thing he’d ever done in his life, felt like he understood what it was like to care probably too much for someone. And that urge to speak to you grew and grew and grew, until one morning where you were eating breakfast and he found a new found courage (for a man who wasn’t scared of being shot or killed...he was scared of talking to you nearly as much as he wanted to talk to you) and sat across from you. 

You’d stayed quiet, not sure if you could even speak to him...and watched him instead, watched him nearly go to speak on multiple occasions and furrow his brow in frustration and you knew just how he was feeling. That frustration over the lump in your throat and the sticking of the words, the frustration over not even being able to start a sentence. 

“Hi.” But he managed it, and it was simple and it was quiet, and he looked so scared which was an odd thing to see on a man so powerful and so normally brave. But he was so obviously scared that it gave you the strength to speak back.

“Hi, Bucky.” and then the two of you were chatting and talking and it felt like you’d been talking to him for months rather than just reading the little notes he gave you. You never brought up the notes in fear that he’d stop writing them, but even after you started talking he never stopped passing them under your door frame and you never wanted them to stop either. You never wanted the kind words to disappear. 

They were a life line to hold onto when he was away or when your day was spiralling out of control. They were an anchor to grab onto and never let go of. 


End file.
